Sixty-Two Degrees
by Unspoken-Nightmare
Summary: Warnings: Yaoi/Smut/Angst/Violence/OC Mello stumbles upon a brunette who had lost her memories and the first words that flashed across his mind were: Pure; untainted; angel. However, what if the brunette is not what she seems to be and she could be the sole reason why he had become that person that he was? R&R!


_**Warnings: Smut/Yaoi/Angst/Violence/Swearing**_

_**Characters:**_

_**[ Main ]**_

_**Mello/Matt/OC [Zera]  
**_

_**Pairings:  
**_

_**MattxMello  
**_

_**OCxMello  
**_

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_**Summary:**_

**Mello stumbles upon a brunette who had lost her memories and the first words that flashed across his mind were: _Pure; untainted; angel. _However, what if the brunette is not what she seems to be and she could be the sole reason why he had become that person that he was? R&R!**

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_**A/N: This is my first draft & I would like to know what you guys think of it & if I should continue/not. So, please do review. I decided to add in an OC as one of the main characters too! Don't worry, you won't be disappointed. [winks/] & yeah, Matt is one of the main characters too & he will appear sooner/later. There will be violence/smut/angst/yaoi/swearing so please read at your own risk.  
**_

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**And there he was, striding along the eerie abandoned streets that lay hidden in the dark corners of New York; cursing incoherently while he tore apart the already devastated streets. **

_Screw everything. _Soft golden locks fell into deep icy cerulean as cold as the arctic while the blond hung his head low; possibly for the first time in his life. As if the sky was empathizing with him, gigantic thunderous claps resounded beneath the dark puffy clouds after a few streaks of silver tore across the sheet of slate grey. _Screw fate. _The blond bared his pearly whites as he tucked his Beretta into the weapons belt that rode just below his leather-clad hips.

Fate could not have been more accurate; having two of his hideouts raided by the police and forty of his foolish men apprehended by them. As the dark clouds leashed out a symphony of unveiled grimaces, huge fat raindrops begun to pelt onto the already damp earth; petrichor flitting across the musty ground. It _should _have been impossible: impossible for them to capture at least five of his men yet forty were now caged. Mello had handpicked his men and only the best were chosen so the blond could not comprehend as to why they were captured unless he had been betrayed.

"_This was already unwritten by Fate." _He recalled how smug that raven-haired messenger was as he sashayed into the Mafia's hideout, updating him on the loss of his comrades.

_Damn! _The blond cursed under the irascible winds as he cocked his head up, instantaneously delivering a swift kick towards a trashcan that sat just a few feet away from him. The metal slammed into the wall with a deafening clank.

He could not believe how blind he was; to let his men be caught – to let a _traitor _breath under his wings. It was demeaning. How could he, the great mafia boss of the best organization in New York, let a _traitor _– a mutt, get the better of him? He cringed in repulsion as his footsteps quickened. He had to do something quick lest his name gets flushed down the toilet bowl.

All of a sudden, a shrill scream broke the otherwise still night air – if the booming claps of thunder were ignored. The blond raised an eyebrow nonchalantly as he strutted down the walkway to locate the source. Even he had to admit; it was awfully blasé to hear pleas for helps and shrieks of agony along the streets of New York. To be honest, crimes and vices were the norm in these dark alleys: murder, rape, abuse, prostitution, robbery, theft and anything else you could conjure thrived along these very streets. If this had been any other mundane day, he would be ignorant to the pleas for help but it was not. Mello detested it whenever some random human ululated in distress and disrupted his train of thoughts. The blond was not someone who tolerated humans who bothered his _peace. _

He halted to a stop as he rested against the corner of bend. Two burly-looking man clad in black his eagle eyes grasp. They were at least 5'9, towering at least a few inches above him. Both of them were clad in a simple black tee and acid-washed jeans.

The musty stench of vomit infiltrated his nostrils making him scrunch his nose in revolt as he leaned gingerly against the rain-streaked wall.

"Hey, we've gotten ourselves a pretty little trophy!" A hoarse voice belonging to the taller of both men grated. The other man only laughed in agreement as he knelt down to reach for the seemingly unconscious figure that lay strewn across the gelid ground.

"Hehehe. Pretty little toy." One of them chuckled friskily as his hand lazily trailed along the contours of his buckle. Without hesitation, Mello withdrew his Beretta, training the barrel onto the man's head and pulled the bloody trigger before repeating it over again. As the silver bullets flew straight into both of the men's skulls with immaculate accuracy, the sides of Mello's pink lips tugged into a smirk; _Perfect. _That was what he was and _always_ will be.

The blond's cobalt gaze flitted towards the still figure and as he inched closer – finally able to make out her features. He gasped slightly as he knelt down to get a closer view of her face. She was ravishingly _beautiful_; her lush mahogany locks cascaded past her shoulders, stopping just inches below them as they rested against her loose long-sleeved purple tee. A small mole sat at the bottom right of her perfect plump lips, further enhancing her beauty. By the looks of it, she was probably a year younger than him – seventeen. If Mello had been some random passer-by, he would have been swooned, right there and then as he stood there, rooted to the ground but he was not. Mello could care less about humans, much less love. Plus, he was asexual.

Mello's azure orbs remained unfazed as he observed a twitch of movement flashing across the girl's face.

"Are you… alright?" He asked, prodding the girl with his Beretta. Somewhere, deep inside his mind, he chastised himself for being so socially awkward.

Three seconds of silence hovered over them as his cerulean gems met those of the darkest and deepest shade of hazel. She flinched in agony as she struggled to get on her feet. All the blond could do was stare; stare lifelessly into the girl's perturbed eyes.

"Name?"

"Zera." Said girl tensed her muscles reflectively before clutching her head in agony.

"I can't remember." Her dulcet voice trailed off as her breaths came out in short disturbed puffs.

"I can't remember anything else other than my name." Her hazel gaze fixated itself onto the stunning blond, as if he was her only hope.

"Please help me." Her pink lips thinned as they tightened slightly. "I can't remember anything. I can't remember…" By now, she was now frantically shaking her head.

"But there's something important I need to remember. I can feel it. It's very important but I can't remember. I know that I must-" The brunette was cut off by Mello, who stuck out his slender leather-gloved hand towards her. tilted her head as she gazed blankly at the blond's outstretched hand before she reached out in an attempt to accept his offer.

"If you take my hand, there's no turning back." He cut her off; cocking his head in arrogance.

"And if you do, there is always a price to pay for right now, you're making a deal with the devil." The blond's azure gems stared daggers into her soul as he tried to eradicate all traces of emotions within them.

"So, little girl, I'm willing to help you only if you give me what I want." He inched closer to her, lifting her chin so tenderly until their noses were barely an inch apart. Up close, Mello realized that her skin was flawless; milky and flawless. It was as if she was an angel; pure, unblemished and innocent.

"I have nothing to offer." Her tone was of great melancholy as she averted her gaze from him; her once warm hazel gems darkening intensely as all traces of emotions were washed away and hurled into the wind.

"Don't worry. When the time comes, I'll tell you." He smirked, tucking the Beretta into his weapons belt.

"So, what do you say?"

"I have nothing to lose." Their gazes met in an unspoken embrace whilst the irascible winds hurled themselves onto their insentient body. As Zera reached out to grasp the blond's hand, she knew that she had made a mistake yet, he was her only hope. Surely, God must have abhorred her to even do something so evil such as eradicating her memories and if God would not help her, then the Devil will. Zera glanced, sixty-two degrees to her left, only to find a familiar looking diamond pendant on the ground and as her bony fingers clasp around the icy metal, the first kiss of the metallic object willed back a sense of nostalgia. The pendant was in the shape of a hexagon with the eye of Horus sitting right in the middle. Along the corner of the diamond hexagon were the words that were emblazoned into the gem: Sweet Blasphemy. Was God that ruthless as to leave her in the cold and toy with her mind? Or was he merciful to let this angel save her? _Sweet blasphemy. _Those words rang in her mind as she tried to delve deep into it. Perhaps, this was punishment for her sins – sins that she could not remember existed. Perhaps her sins were too inordinate that even death could not purify them. However, she was jolted out of her reverie as the blond pulled her up onto her feet.

Or maybe, this was simply what it was: a knock on her head. Either way, she knew that it would not be an easy feat to regain her forgotten memories.

"Are you chickening out?" The blond's silky voice enveloped her in an invisible cocoon of warmth as she pushed aside her thoughts. Just to hear that golden angel's voice lulled her befuddled mind. She didn't even know where she was or even which day of the week was it. She couldn't even conjure up the time so how could she even survive on these streets. Furthermore, right now, she had absolutely no purpose - no reason to be here and she knew; deep in her heart, that somehow, that blond was the sole chance she had at surviving.

"Don't count on it, blondie."

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_**A/N: And that was my first draft of sixty-two degrees. I hope I didn't waste your time & I do hope that you would leave me a review so that I can improve on my writing. It's been a while since I wrote & I certainly miss that feeling. Anyways, reviews are very much welcomed! ~~  
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